


Blind Desire

by OrmondSacker



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Character Study, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Dominant Chirrut Îmwe, Emotions, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Sensory Deprivation, Submissive Baze Malbus, sensory play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 18:59:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10224935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: Baze has a desire he finds it hard to confess to Chirrut, but ends up finding his lover a more than willing partner.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by JuniorWoofles. Any remaining mistakes are mine, because I just can't stop fiddling with stuff.
> 
> Thank you to Greymichaela's Anon who made my plot tribbles breed.

Baze twists the golden yellow scarf between his fingers as he sits on the bed, feeling the smooth silk slip between them. 

The sun is setting, its last rays still shines on the top of the Kyber temple's tower, illuminating the room he and Chirrut share there. It makes the scarf in his hand shine with the same warmth as its fading luminance. 

It's a small room, but then it only contains a bed large enough for the two of them, a table and two chairs and drawers for their clothes. 

Chirrut is sitting at the table, engrossed in an audio version of an old sacred text he's studying. Baze studies him out of the corner of his eye, his gaze shifting between his lover and the scarf in his hands. 

Perched on the chair, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, Chirrut sits with his index finger resting on his bottom lip, his milky blue eyes even more distant than usual as he listens to the text. He's bathed in the sun's last rays; the light making his face look sharper than usual. In his black robe it makes him look almost ascetic. 

The thought makes Baze snort. Ascetic is the last word he'd choose to describe Chirrut. Shifting on the bed, he twists the scarf between his fingers again. 

Chirrut gives a frustrated sigh as he pulls off his earphones. 

"What is wrong with you tonight?" he asks. "You've been restless all evening. It makes it difficult to concentrate." 

Of course Chirrut had heard him shift and twist even with headphones on. 

Baze looks at the scarf in his hand, the thoughts he has had on his mind all day are suddenly clamoring even louder. 

"Well, I-" is as far as he gets before his courage fails him and the rest falls into silence. 

Chirrut has his head aslant, listening with the kind of intent scrutiny that always serves to make Baze feel both excited and skittish when he's its focus. In this moment his fear wins out. 

"I'll just leave you then, let you concentrate." 

He quickly rolls off the bed, dropping the scarf on the pillow and makes a hasty exit towards the door. 

"You could of course," Chirrut replies as Baze hears him rise from the chair. "But I'd much rather that you told me what got you so worked up?" 

Baze stops and turns halfway back, watching in petrified silence as Chirrut walks over to the bed and picks up the scarf, twining it between his strong fingers. 

"And why have you been playing with a silk scarf all evening as well?" 

Baze wants to snatch it from his hand, stuff it in his pocket, tell Chirrut that it's private and none of his business. But there's something about his lover as he stands there, that quiet, composed and fully centered something that always makes Baze want to kneel before him. 

His heart is pounding wildly in his chest now and it feels like there isn't enough air in the room. 

"No answer but silence for me, my friend?" Chirrut asks with a smile. "Will you allow me to guess then?" 

Baze still says nothing, doesn’t even twitch, incapable of moving under Chirrut's close scrutiny. 

Baze can see a small frown of contemplation form on Chirrut's brow as he continues to study the scarf in his hands, then with a quick move he twines it around his own wrists and holds them out to Baze. 

"Is this what you want?" he asks. 

"No!" The word is almost loud enough to be a shout as it escapes Baze's mouth. 

Everything about this feels so viscerally  _ wrong _ to him. Chirrut should never be tied down. 

"No?" Chirrut repeats quietly. "Forgive me, my mistake. Do I get a second guess?" he continues as he liberates his wrists. 

There something in the air then, a change in Chirrut. So subtle that Baze cannot put his finger on but it makes him tremble as heat begins to pool in his groin. 

The silence in the room stretches on until the air grows brittle with it; Baze incapable of speaking even to save his life and Chirrut waiting, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to move or speak as well. 

"Yes." When Baze finally gets the word out, it is little more than a breath, a whispered prayer. 

The almost imperceptible word shatters the silence, making it clatter to the floor as sounds comes rushing in again. The sunset call of the temple, the distant sounds of the city's traffic, his own ragged breath. 

Chirrut steps forward, moving with the same focused grace he always does, until he's less than an arm's length from Baze. 

"My guess..." He lets his voice trail off as he reaches down and takes both Baze's hands in his, raising them until they are level with his chest and crosses the wrists. "My second guess, is this," he continues, looping the scarf around the wrists, before securing it. 

Only a lifetime's worth of self discipline keeps Baze from letting out a needy whine. 

Nothing has happened and yet Baze can feel himself getting hard, arousal now coursing thick and heavy in his veins, blood rising to the surface of his face. 

"I see," Chirrut says softly, a gentle and curious expression on his face. "You never let on you were interested in this." When Baze still says nothing, Chirrut's features grow harder. "Why didn't you? Answer me." 

There's just a hint of command in the softly spoken words and Baze can feel how his knees are threatening to give out under him. 

"I, I didn't know how to tell you. Without making you angry." 

Chirrut takes Baze's hands in his own, cradling them.  

"You thought this would make me angry?" he says, his voice puzzled, listening to Baze. "No," he continues. "There's something more to it than this, isn't there?" 

Baze swallows, finding words to be lost to him again. 

Chirrut reaches up and places his left hand on Baze's chin, fingers curling around it, playing with the beard. 

"Tell me." Chirrut's voice is soft still, but the words are no less a command for that. 

"I want you to blindfold me. I want to be helpless." Now that he's said them the words sound even more wrong than when they were just in his head. "I don't think that you are-" 

A finger on his lips silences him. 

"I know you don't. You tell me so every day in how you act towards me. But I think I understand what you're asking for." 

Chirrut's hand is caressing Baze's chin, stroking along the jawline. 

"What else do you want?" he asks. 

Baze shrugs, unsure. When he has allowed himself to think of this his thoughts and dreams have always been jumbled and disjointed. 

Chirrut nods once then, begins to release Baze's wrists and Baze swallows convulsively, feeling his stomach fold in on itself. Chirrut must sense his discomfort, because he takes his hands once more and cradles them against his chest and caress them. 

"I'm not saying no, Baze. But I need to think on this. Can you give me time to do that?" 

"Of course." As much as he wants this, he doesn't want to make Chirrut uncomfortable. Another thing that has kept him silent until now. 

"Good." Chirrut's smile is warm and brilliant, and serves to lay to rest most of Baze's worries. "Now come here. You sound like you could do with a hug." 

Baze willingly steps into his arms and buries his face at Chirrut's neck, feeling Chirrut's hands slowly run up and down his back. 

"One last question. Can I keep the scarf?" 

"Sure," Baze mumbles back, voice muffled by Chirrut's shoulder. 

Chirrut pockets it and goes back to petting Baze's back.

 

**oOoOo**

 

For the next four days neither of them raises the topic again, though Chirrut is even more affectionate than usual, dropping small kisses and touches constantly in a manner that Baze assumes is meant to sooth him. Mostly it works. 

On the fourth morning he wakes to find Chirrut's side of the bed empty. That in itself is not unusual. His lover's blindness is accompanied with the usual bouts of insomnia that blind people often suffer from and Chirrut tends to deal with it by getting out of bed and finding something to do, rather than to lie in bed and toss and turn, and risk waking Baze. No what is unusual is what he sees on Chirrut's pillow. 

On it, neatly folded into a square, lies the yellow scarf and beside it Chirrut's datapad. On the screen is written a single word: 'Tonight'. 

The word fills his blood with heat, his heart with anxious excitement and sends a jolt through his nerves. 

He somehow manages to dress himself, fingers fumbling with belt and clasps, and get ready for the day. Before he leaves he writes one word on the datapad beneath the first.  

'Agreed'.

 

**oOoOo**

 

Baze spends the day running on autopilot, barely knowing what he does or says. His mental absence causes several comments, but try as he might he finds it nearly impossible to focus on anything but Chirrut's promise. 

He sees his lover briefly at lunch, the man acting entirely as normal. How he manages that Baze has no idea. Maybe he just has better self control. 

Chirrut is already talking to two of the others when Baze enters the dining hall so he has no chance to get him alone. Their only interaction is when Chirrut drops a kiss on Baze's cheek as he's leaving, whispering a low "later" in Baze's ear, so low that no one else can hear, before disappearing out the door. 

The kiss is like a brand on Baze's skin.

 

**oOoOo**

 

That evening when he returns to their chamber Baze finds Chirrut already there. Chirrut is dressed in a black sleeveless training tunic and leggings, a red sash tied around his waist, sitting cross legged on the bed. Across his knees lies the yellow scarf Baze gave him, his fingers toying with one end. On the bed beside him lies six more in the same color. 

"I hope you don't mind I went shopping," Chirrut says by the way of greeting. "I have a few ideas that need more than one of these." 

"Not at all," Baze replies, his voice already going rough as the heat that has been crawling beneath his skin all day flares alive, stealing his breath. 

Chirrut gets off the bed and goes to kiss him, putting his arms around his neck. 

"You've washed," he observes when he pulls away. 

"Yeah, I erm, didn't know what you had in mind so-" He breaks off with a shrug. Chirrut's brilliant smile calms his skittering nerves. 

"Come sit on the bed," Chirrut says, taking Baze by the hand and guiding him there, before assuming the same cross legged position that Baze initially found him in. 

Sitting down on the edge Baze removes his shoes and socks then crawls on the bed as well. Chirrut takes Baze's hands again, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the back of them. 

"Baze, I want you to promise me one thing." 

"Of course." 

"If I make you uncomfortable during this, tell me. We can take a break or stop altogether, depending on what you wish. But I can only pick up so much, so I'll need you to tell me." 

"I'm not sure I'll want to stop once we start." 

Chirrut smiles. 

"That's fine, if that is what you chose. But I still need you to promise me this." 

"I promise." 

Chirrut leans in and kisses him again, nipping at his bottom lip, pulling softly at it with his teeth when he sits back. 

"Shall we start then?" 

Baze swallows once. 

"Yes." 

Chirrut picks up one of the yellow scarves and runs it through his fingers. 

"First take off your shirt." 

His fingers clumsy with excitement, Baze fumbles with the first catch on his shirt. 

"Or would you like me to do it?" Chirrut asks after he has tried a few times. 

"Yes." Baze lets his hands fall into his lap. 

Chirrut easily undoes each catch in turn before pushing the shirt back and off Baze's shoulders before tossing it aside. 

"Hold out your wrists." 

The voice is gentle, but the words are clearly a command and not a request, although Baze would have complied regardless. 

He holds out his wrists, crossing them, and Chirrut wraps the yellow scarf around them, tying it off. Once they are secured Chirrut studies his work, his fingers gliding from the smooth fabric of the scarf to Baze's skin, examining the difference. 

Baze knows the strength of Chirrut's hands from sparring. When he fights there's nothing soft or gentle about them, knuckles like steel and a grip hard enough to bruise, but here and now they're feather soft as they study him, leaving him trembling from their gentleness. 

Chirrut raises Baze's bound hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles before finally letting them go and picking up a second scarf. 

"Close your eyes," he orders in that same soft voice. With a shuddering breath Baze complies. 

He is acutely aware of the sleek fabric as Chirrut wraps the scarf around his head, leaving him in darkness, and the soft rustle as it is tied. Chirrut's fingers then run the length of it, making certain that it is tight enough that he cannot see. 

"Is it too tight?" Chirrut asks when he's done. 

"No, it's fine." Baze is surprised how rough his voice already sounds. His heart is pounding in his chest and the fire in his blood has begun to gravitate towards his cock, making him shift uncomfortably. 

Chirrut's hands are running down his back until they rest on Baze's hips, gripping them firmly. Perhaps he can feel the tenting fabric of Baze's pants because when Chirrut kisses his neck Baze can feel that his lips are curving in a smile. 

"So excited, so quickly," he says, his voice light and teasing. 

_ Oh he's noticed alright. _

Baze feels his face heat up and shifts again, ashamed of his eagerness. 

Maybe Chirrut senses that too because he continues. "I consider it a compliment. That you want me this badly."  

He lets his fingers run on both sides of Baze's erection, skirting it. Baze gasps at the too gentle touch, unable to hold back a shiver. 

"But you'll have to wait a bit I'm afraid," Chirrut continues, removing his hands and shifting away. 

"Lie down on your back," he orders, as he pushes lightly on Baze's shoulder. "And put your hands above your head." 

Baze does as Chirrut tells him. Lying there, stripped to the waist, blind and with his hands tied together he feels exposed and vulnerable. 

Chirrut's mouth is on his then, gentle but insistent as it pries his lips apart, claiming his mouth for his own until Baze feels dizzy from it. He tries to thrust into the air, to gain some small measure of relief from the fabric of his pants against his cock but Chirrut's hand is resting on Baze's belly, pinning him down. 

"So eager," Chirrut mutters as his mouth drift down across Baze's jaw until he's nuzzling his throat.  

His heart is racing so fast and hard that Baze's wonders if it might leap out of his chest. There is so little contact, just Chirrut's hand on his abdomen and his mouth at his throat, and yet he's about to burst, but all he can is lie still as Chirrut mouths at his skin, tongue running over the vein in his neck. The knowledge that Chirrut can feel his rapid pulse with his tongue makes Baze even harder and a soft groan falls from his lips. 

When Chirrut sits back up Baze can't help but be almost inhumanly aware of the rapidly cooling spot on his throat that Chirrut laved at. 

"Oh what you do to me, my love. Feeling how eager you are, yet you still fight so hard to keep still because you know it is what I want of you. Tell me, does this please you?" 

"Yes." Baze's voice is little more than a sigh. 

Chirrut's fingers play with the waist of Baze's pants, dipping suggestively beneath the waistband, before pulling back out. 

"Do you want me to take these off you?" Chirrut asks. 

"Please," he begs, pressing his hips upwards against Chirrut's palm. 

"How can I refuse such a sweet plea?" 

Baze can't focus on anything but the drag of Chirrut's palms across his skin as he pulls off his pants. Once they're gone Chirrut grabs hold of his ankles, fingers gripping them in a steel vice while his thumbs rubs circles on the sensitive skin on the inside. 

He spreads Baze's legs and Baze can feel him take up position between them. Then a scarf is tied around his left ankle, followed by another around his right. The bed dips and shifts as Chirrut moves about. 

"Try to pull up your legs, I want to know if I got the length right," Chirrut says, placing one hand on Baze's thigh. 

Dutifully, Baze does as Chirrut demands. 

There is a good deal of slack in the scarves, but not so much that he can pull his legs fully together. Chirrut's hand tests the width of the gap, fingers teasing against the sensitive skin on the inside of the thighs and brushes suggestively over Baze's balls, drawing a strangled gasp from him. 

Chirrut leans in over him again, placing one hand on top of Baze's, pushing them into the pillows. 

"Keep your hands there," he says, his voice a gentle breeze over Baze's face. 

Baze gulps out a, "Yes," and Chirrut sits back up. 

The end of a silk scarf drags over Baze's chest from his navel to his throat, the smooth texture dancing over his skin. Its return journey back down doesn't end where it began, but instead travels down over his hip bone and down his thigh, dipping in between his legs, teasing his skin there. 

His leg jerks. Trying to get away, trying to get more contact? Baze isn't sure which. The restraints on his ankles keeps him from getting too far and the scarf's tantalizing journey continues unhindered all the way down to his foot. 

He's already achingly hard, precome dripping down on his belly and the teasing is making his cock pulse and twitch. When Chirrut drags the fabric across it Baze lets out a throaty moan. 

Baze twists his head, biting down on his arm to muffle the sounds escaping from his mouth. 

"No." Chirrut's voice is soft, but there is steel in it as he takes hold of Baze's jaw, gently turning his head back. "You're mine and I want to hear you." 

That bald faced claiming makes Baze whine. 

"You sound so enchanting, beloved. Shall we see how many sounds I can draw from you?" 

Without waiting for an answer, Chirrut begins to tease Baze with the scarf again, running it all over his body. Up his arms, over his chest and lets it linger on the nipples, tormenting them with the too light touches. Further downwards, playing across Baze's abdomen, skirting across his balls while narrowly avoiding touching his leaking cock, finally dipping between his thighs, its touch agonizingly light. Then Chirrut drags it back up again, in another titillating path. 

Blindfolded, restrained and with the roaring of his blood in his ears the only sound he hears, all Baze can do is yield to the touches until every muscle in his body is quivering. His stomach is wet and slick with his own precome, and his climax so temptingly near yet he fights it; not wanting the maddening pleasure to end. 

The scarf abruptly disappears, leaving Baze reeling from its sudden absence, his senses seeking stimulation of any kind. But only for a moment, then Chirrut's hand is wrapped around both of his, lying as they are above his head, exactly where Chirrut told him to keep them. Chirrut twines his fingers into Baze's gently pressing them down into the mattress and Baze feels the weight ground him, offering him an anchor for his staggering mind. 

"Shhh, my lovely," Chirrut whispers, as he places firm kisses on Baze's face. "Hold onto me and center yourself. You were slipping away and I'm not done with you yet." 

A shaky, rasping breath escapes Baze at the thought of more and yet the thought of calling an end to it all doesn't even occur to him, his body and mind craving this: Chirrut's gentle orders and his own surrender to them, his faith that his lover will take care of him. Instead he tries to focus, concentrates on steadying his breathing and put himself back in his body enough so he can hold on. 

"Ready for more?" Chirrut asks. 

"Yes," Baze sighs. 

One more kiss is pressed on his lips and he can feel the curve of Chirrut's smile in it, then it all starts over again. 

Baze loses count of the times that the process is repeated, Chirrut teasing him with the scarf until he is panting and whimpering, wordlessly pleading though he knows not for what, only to stop and ground him each time he gets too close to coming. He knows only that every nerve in his body is on fire, each touch burning him, bringing him closer and closer to a relief that never comes.  

Each time Chirrut stops and grounds him, he asks him if he wishes to continue. Each time Baze says yes, eagerly embracing the fervor, a pleasure spiraled so out of control that the only release may be if his heart gives out. 

And then the scarf doesn't come back. Instead Baze feels Chirrut's slick fingers, drift down between his ass cheeks until they rest over his opening, teasingly circling it without pushing inside, waiting for permission. 

No longer coherent, Baze lets his thighs fall as wide as the restraints on his ankles lets him in silent invitation, one Chirrut isn't late in accepting. One finger pushes inside him and upon finding him loose and slack it is soon joined by a second.  

When they rub across his prostate a strangled cry escapes Baze's already raw throat. 

The fingers play with him as they stretch him open, the two joined by a third, much as the scarf had, the same blissful torture that holds him on edge without letting him fall, indifferent to his wordless pleas. 

When the fingers withdraw they leave him feeling empty and Baze grunts discontented at the loss. 

"Shhh," Chirrut hushes him. "Such impatience. There is no need for that." 

Baze feels the heat of Chirrut's body against his own heated, over-sensitive skin as the man leans over him, kissing him thoroughly. 

"I need you to lift your hips, my lovely." 

After three attempts and with considerable effort, Baze manages to make his muscle comply and he feels a pillow being pushed under his hips. 

Chirrut pushes into Baze with agonizing slowness until he's fully sheathed, the head of his cock nudging firmly against his prostate as he does. Leisurely Chirrut pulls back out until only the head rests inside Baze and pushes back in with an equal languorous pace, stroking Baze's prostate with the head of his cock once more. Over and over Chirrut continues at the same languid pace, pulling out and pushing back in, never missing a chance to rub against that sensitive spot.  

Baze groans and gasps at it, helpless and unwilling to escape, but equally unable to drag Chirrut as close as he wants him. His sole option is to let Chirrut do as he wants and lose himself in the intoxicating bliss, shaking with his own unfulfilled need. 

He feels the rush of hot fluid that fills him when Chirrut finds his release, the soft gasp from the other man when he comes almost deafening to Baze. 

Chirrut's hand runs possessively over Baze's thigh, the other resting on his face. 

"I'm half tempted to leave you like this, desperate and wanting. Eager for my every touch. You would let me, wouldn't you?" 

All Baze can find the energy for is a clumsy nod. 

"But you've been doing so well, my light. You deserve something for that." 

Chirrut shifts on the bed until Baze can feel him lying alongside him. Strong fingers wrap themselves around Baze's cock and begins to stroke him, gliding easily across skin, wet and slick as it is with the precome that has been steadily flowing from the tip. 

When Chirrut's thumb rubs across the head of Baze's cock he throws his head back, uttering a sound that is half pleasure half pain, hips thrusting weakly up against the touch, desperately seeking the relief he has been so long denied, though his muscles are barely able to move. 

"Yes my love," Chirrut whispers in his ear. "Please yourself now, as you have pleased me tonight." 

At those words the dam breaks and his balls draws up almost painfully hard as he comes, come splashing over his chest. Baze barely notices the wet stickiness, his senses too flooded with blissful calm and a bone deep sense of safety. 

A kiss is pressed against his temple and Baze hums contentedly at the touch. The bed shifts as Chirrut sits up and unties Baze's wrists. 

"Hmm, I had thought these knots would be a mess afterwards, but you've barely pulled at them." Once freed Chirrut lifts the hands to his lips and kisses each knuckle in turn before turning them over and placing another kiss on the inside of each wrist. "You did so well in keeping still." 

Chirrut places Baze's arms down along his sides, then lets his hands move over Baze's shoulders. 

"Your muscles here are tense though. Let me see what I can do." 

Baze sighs softly as Chirrut begins to massage his shoulders with tender firmness. The stickiness on his chest is getting uncomfortable, but not so much that he wants to move. He's not even sure he could if it was necessary, his muscles utterly limp with pleasure. The thought should frighten him, being so helpless coupled with being blindfolded, but Chirrut's steady presence and the softness in his voice as he hums while rubbing the kinks out of the muscles makes it perfectly acceptable for some reason. 

"There," Chirrut says, finally satisfied with the state of Baze's shoulders. He moves down and unties Baze's ankles too, a much harder job. "These on the other hand you pulled quite a bit. I'll have to remember that." Then the bed shifts as he gets off it.  

Baze makes a discontented noise and Chirrut leans down and kisses his forehead again. 

"I'll only be a second, my love." 

Baze hears the sound of his naked feet against the stone floor, a rustle of cloth and the soft sloshing of water, followed by a muted clink of clay against wood. 

An arm is pushed beneath his shoulders and Chirrut lifts him up nestling him against his shoulder, Baze resting his head on it. The cool, glazed clay of a cup touches his lips. 

"Drink, my light." 

Baze sips down the water in the cup suddenly realizing how parched and raw his throat is, Chirrut gently tilting it against his mouth. 

"One more and then I'll wash you," Chirrut says once Baze has drained the first cup.  

When he has emptied the second one as well Chirrut lays him gently back down on the bed. Baze feels him shift and hears sloshing along with dripping. Then a warm, damp washcloth is on him belly, slowly cleaning him, working its way up his torso. A gasp falls from his lips when it brushes across his nipples. 

"Shhh, my star. I'll be done soon." 

"Hmmm, don't stop. Feels good." 

Chirrut chuckles softly as Baze hears him dip the washcloth in the water again. Then it's between his legs, stroking around his testicles and cock, and Baze grunts from the firm touch on sensitive skin. 

"Too much?" 

"Yes. No. A little. Don't stop." 

Chirrut continues to wash him off, occasionally dipping the cloth back in the water, until Baze is clean and damp from head to toe, then lovingly dries him off with a towel. Kissing him once more, Chirrut lets his fingers rest briefly on the silk of the blindfold. 

"Let me turn down the light before removing this, so it doesn't hurt your eyes." 

Baze hears him move about the room, turning off the light before returning. Chirrut crawls onto the bed, scoots up against the headboard and puts Baze's head in his lap, reaching for the blindfold. 

"Leave it," Baze rumbles, not yet feeling ready to relinquish this world of only sound and touch that he inhabits, a world of peace and calm. "For a little while." 

"As you wish," Chirrut replies, his fingers slipping from the scarf down behind Baze's ears until they're curled around his jaw. Baze can feel his smile when Chirrut leans down to kiss him. 

"Did you enjoy it?" Chirrut asks when he sits back up, earning a snort from Baze. 

"You really have to ask that?" 

"There are many levels of enjoyment. I suppose what I am thinking of here is if this was what you desired?" 

Baze reaches up, blindly groping for some hold on Chirrut. His hand manages to find Chirrut's shoulder and he squeezes it clumsily. 

"It was far more than I hoped it could be. Thank you." 

Chirrut leans down and kisses him on the lips again before sitting back up and falling silent.  

They remain like that for a while, Chirrut leaned against the headboard with Baze's head in his lap, his fingers caressing Baze's face. Finally with a sigh Baze raises his hand to the blindfold’s knot, teasing it open. 

"Keep your eyes closed for a little once you take it off," Chirrut suggests as he does. "Let your eyes get used to the light." 

Baze nods as he lifts his head slightly and pulls the scarf off. 

Total darkness becomes yellow-red behind Baze's eyelids. He lies like that for a few seconds, eyes still closed as Chirrut suggested, before slowly opening them, blinking as he does. Only the bedside lamp is still lit, its already faint light further muted by one of the silk scarves which Chirrut has draped over it, so it bathes the room in a soft, golden light. 

Tilting his head up Baze looks at Chirrut. The man has a warm, almost serene smile on his lips. Baze pulls gently on his arm, lifting his head from his lap. Chirrut takes the hint and lies down next to him. 

"And you?" Baze asks. "Did you enjoy it?" 

"Yes," is all Chirrut says, but the smile on his lips grows even warmer, its glow soothing the nerves that were threatening to rise inside Baze. 

Another kiss is shared between them, soft and gentle at first, then passion suddenly grips Baze and he fiercely claims Chirrut's mouth. Chirrut lets him, pressing in against his body, eager and willing. Then as sudden as the need arose, it fades and Baze pulls back, slightly abashed. 

"Sorry, don't know where that came from," he mutters. 

"You won't hear any complaint from me," Chirrut laughs, before taking Baze's face in his hands and kissing his nose. Then the smile falls away. "Would you mind if I kept them? The scarves?" 

The implied promise in that question makes Baze's heart beat faster. Still he asks, "As a memento?" 

"They could be," Chirrut hedges. 

"But that is not what you want them to be," Baze presses. Perhaps it is unfair, but this was his idea from the beginning and he still doesn't quite know for sure how much of this might be Chirrut simply going along for the ride. 

There is a long pause then, but Baze can see caution warring with keen interest on Chirrut's face; the man was never one to hide his thoughts or feelings deeply and Baze allows himself to hope that Chirrut's answer will be what he wants it to. 

"I would like to see them on you again," Chirrut finally says and Baze's heart leaps with joy. "No jokes, you know what I mean," he continues, though jokes had been the furthest thing from Baze's mind in this moment. "Feel you beneath my hands, hear you as you fall apart." 

Baze grabs him and kisses him firmly. "Please keep them." 

Chirrut laughs again at that, a laugh that grows even merrier when Baze find he can't contain a great yawn. "Tired, beloved?" 

"Yes, for some reason I am," Baze replies drily, drawing an amused snort from Chirrut. 

"Then sleep, my heart. I put you through quite a bit tonight." 

Chirrut rolls over on his back, holding out an arm towards Baze and Baze settles down with his head on Chirrut's shoulder. It is rare for them to lie like this, usually it's the other way around, or Baze spooning around Chirrut, but Baze finds it pleasant to be held in this way right now. He wraps one arm around Chirrut's waist and closes his eyes, allowing sleep to find him. 

The last thing he hears before he drifts off is Chirrut humming an old Jedhan lullaby while gently playing with Baze's hair. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://luminousfinn.tumblr.com)?


End file.
